The Divided United
by Jestana
Summary: PLEASE NOTE THE RATING! This is not for kids! After 32 years apart, Patrick and Emily meet again and renew their relationship.


**The Divided United**

The last time Patrick Henry Gates had seen his ex-wife had been the day of his father's funeral. Ben had been devastated by the loss of his grandfather and all but begged his mother to come to the funeral, insisting that he needed _both_ his parents there. Unable to deny her son, Emily had come, dressed all in black. The moment Ben saw her, he darted over to hug her tight and she hugged him back, murmuring words in his ear that Patrick assumed were supposed to be comforting. Ben nodded and, taking Emily's hand in his, led her over to where Patrick stood by himself, valiantly resisting the urge to tug at his tie. "Mom, Dad, can you not fight for one day?"

"Of course, Son," Patrick agreed, too grieved by the loss of his father to really _want_ to argue with Emily if she took offense at some comment of his or another.

"I promise, Sweetie." Emily nodded, her pale gold curls dancing around her slender shoulders. Part of him wished he could reach over and run his fingers through them like he used to do, when they were happily married.

"Thanks." Ben quickly wiped his hand across his eyes and sat down where he'd been before, pulling on Emily's hand to get her to sit down next to him.

At the expectant look on his son's face, Patrick sat down on his other side, acutely aware of Emily's presence all throughout the service. When it was time for the eulogy, Patrick got up and approached the front of the room with a heavy heart. "John Adams Gates was a passionate man. Passionate about life, about his family, and the treasure." A few people gave a chuckle or laugh. "There was never a doubt in his mind that it existed and there was never a doubt in _my_ mind that he loved me. Even when we weren't getting along, I knew his love hadn't faded. He wanted what was best for me and was disappointed when it didn't come about, but his love never faded." He swallowed hard, looking at his son, whose bowed head didn't quite hide his tears. "Just as my love for _my_ son will never fade, no matter what he chooses to do with his life."

His throat too thick with emotion to continue, Patrick returned to his seat, his jaw clenched to hold back his tears. He needed to be strong for Ben. He would cry later, in private. The moment he sat down, Ben turned and burrowed against him, tears soaking into his coat. Patrick wrapped his arms around his son and held him tight, one tear managing to escape. Before he could think of wiping it away, he felt a touch on his cheek and it was gone. Opening his eyes, he saw Emily, a sad smile on her face, tears glimmering in her eyes, too. He managed a faint smile for her, grateful that she'd come after all.

***

_At least they didn't argue at the service or the wake..._ Ben mused to himself as the sound of his parents' raised voices reached his room from the sitting room while he was reading a book about Benjamin Franklin. He wasn't sure _what_ they were arguing about, since they weren't close enough for him to make out what they were saying, but he couldn't remember a time when they _wouldn't_ argue. Even when he was younger and they still liked each other, they'd argue. Though it was more playful and light-hearted then. As he'd grown up, the arguments had become more bitter and angry.

Deciding he wouldn't be able to concentrate on his book more, Ben closed it and settled down to sleep. As he drifted off, he absently realized that his parents had stopped arguing. _Mom must have left..._

But Emily hadn't left. At the exact moment that Ben was falling asleep, Patrick was kissing her with all the passion and hunger that she remembered from the early days of their marriage. And Emily responded to that hunger and passion, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing as close to him as she could. All protestations to the contrary, she _did_ still love and want Patrick, and it seemed he still loved and wanted her.

Without breaking the kiss, Patrick started guiding them up the stairs to his bedroom. Emily's hands were busy removing his tie and coat, leaving them crumpled on the floor. They were joined moments later by Emily's scarf and jacket. By the time they reached the bedroom door, Emily had Patrick's shirt unbuttoned and slipped her small, slender hands inside, rediscovering his chest and stomach by touch.

He groaned and opened the door, forgetting that they were leaning against it until they tumbled into the bedroom. They lay side by side on the floor for a few moments, catching their breath. Softly, Emily began to laugh, thinking of all the other times this had happened to them. Patrick's deeper chuckle joined hers and he propped himself up on his elbow to look down at her, blue eyes bright with fondness as he gazed down at her. Softly, he asked, "Do you want to go on, Em?"

For her answer, Emily cupped the back of his neck and pulled him down for another searing kiss, taking his free hand and placed it on her breast. She moaned against his lips when his hand moved caressingly over her, arching her back to press into his touch. The next few moments were a blur of kissing, caressing, and undressing. Emily's next clear memory was of her lying on the bed with Patrick leaning over her, exploring her body with sight, touch, and taste, slowly driving her mad with desire and want.

Then they were joined at last and Emily gave herself up to the pleasure of being with Patrick. For once, she didn't think about her career or all the reasons she'd left him in the first place. She just enjoyed this time with the man she still loved and wished they could stay this way forever.

***

The moment he woke up the next morning, Patrick knew something was missing. Like they had so many times in the past, he and Emily had gone from arguing in the sitting room to making love in the bedroom in the space of ten or fifteen minutes. Except this time, he was alone when he woke up. Emily's familiar warmth wasn't cuddled against his side like it would have been in the past. He reluctantly opened his eyes and found a note on the pillow redolent with her scent.

_Patrick,_

_I don't regret last night, but perhaps it would be best if we never saw each other again. We would only confuse Ben if we kept doing this._

_I'm sorry._

Emily

Closing his eyes, he pulled Emily's pillow to him and buried his face in it, wishing for a moment that things were the way they used to be. He'd been happiest with Emily _and_ Ben in his life. She completed him and Ben was proof of their love. He couldn't ask for more than that, but it had apparently been too much to ask; at least for Emily. More than anything else, he wished he could find her and explain that she meant more to him than the Templar Treasure. He was too much of a gentleman to go against her wishes, so now he'd never get the chance to tell her.

***

_"It's been what, twenty-five years?"_

_"Thirty-two."_

_"That long?"_

As they drew closer to Emily's office at the University of Maryland, Patrick could feel his heartbeat speeding up at the thought of seeing her again. Despite all the years that had passed, he still loved her very much. He'd hoped finding the Templar Treasure would bring Emily back, but he hadn't heard anything from her in the three years since, so he guessed she didn't care anymore. That's when he finally took off his wedding band and put it away for Ben to wear whenever he and Abigail decided to get married. At least he had _that_ to pass on to his son.

He paused just outside the door after Ben and Abigail went into the office marked '_Dr. Emily Appleton: Linguistics Department, Chair_'. He traced the words with his fingers, proud of her for the accomplishment, but then, it had been almost a given that she would eventually rise to the top of her field. Slowly, he followed Ben and Abigail into the office, his heart skipping a beat at the smell of her perfume and the sound of her voice, "Benjamin! Abigail! What a surprise!" Both reluctant and not, Patrick moved forward, catching Emily's attention. The smile on her face disappeared at the sight of him. "Oh."

He froze where he stood, stung by her reaction. He'd stayed away, just like she'd asked, even though he'd considered going to see her more than once. He'd hoped that she wouldn't _mind_ seeing him, but that had clearly been foolish of him. Channeling the hurt and disappointment into anger, he turned to his son, "You see? One syllable, a knife in the heart!"

Then it degenerated into a typical argument. Though part of him was delighted to see that Emily was still as feisty as ever, another part of him wished she'd mellowed at least a little over the years. Although, he had to admit, at least to himself, that the years had been good to her. She was still as beautiful today as she had been thirty years ago. Perhaps more so, because maturity had added a certain dignity and grace to her natural beauty.

He was almost disappointed when they had to leave. He had no idea if he'd get another chance to see Emily again. Nevertheless, he followed Ben and Abigail from the office, skimming his fingers over her nameplate once more. At least he got to see her again. That was something at least.

***

Emily closed the door behind Ben, Abigail, and Patrick with a relieved sigh. She was always happy to see her son and the woman she hoped would become her daughter-in-law, but seeing Patrick again after so long had been a trial. The mere sight of him, a little older and grayer, but still very much the man she'd loved, had sent a wealth of emotions rushing through her. Surprise, of course: she hadn't expected to see him at all. He'd stayed away from her and she'd stayed away from him, just as she'd suggested. Curiosity followed hard on the heels of surprise: why was he there at all? What had made him come? Then a spark of anger that he'd dared to break their unspoken agreement.

She'd seized on the anger to keep the rest of her emotions at bay, unwilling to do anything rash until she knew how Patrick felt. It'd been almost a relief to start an argument with him. It was at once familiar and not. He'd predictably risen to her bait, but first Ben, and then Abigail had interrupted them before they could fall into their usual patterns. This, on reflection, had probably been for the best. She didn't think she could walk away from him if they made love again. It had been difficult enough the last two times. A third time would be impossible.

Shaking her head as if to banish the thoughts, Emily returned to her desk to gather her notes for her next class. Regardless of the feelings seeing Patrick again had stirred up in her, she still had work to do.

***

"Your ex-husband's on his way up. He wants the translation. Tell him anything but the truth. Get rid of him. His life depends on it."

As she waited for Patrick to arrive, Emily was very aware of how quickly her heart was beating in her chest. Wilkinson and his gun right behind her was only part of the reason for the way her heart was thrumming. The anticipation of seeing Patrick again was the other part of the reason. Though she didn't intend to let on that she _wanted_ to see him. There was too much unsettled between them for her to let her guard down that much. Not to mention the presence of Wilkinson placed an additional constraint on her behavior.

Her mind wasn't idle while she waited, either. It was racing to come up with a way to let Patrick and the others know that Wilkinson was after the treasure, too, and would likely be holding her hostage. He hadn't indicated that yet, but she hadn't translated the text yet and he wouldn't leave without it. She'd seen the type before: men who wanted to find the treasure more for it's monetary value than for its value as knowledge of cultures and civilizations. They were the sort of men she'd hated working with in the past.

Sooner than she would have liked, she heard Patrick's voice, followed by a knock on the partially open door, "Emily?" The door creaked and she could only assume that Patrick had entered the office. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped out into her office to face him. His scent teased her nose and she inwardly fortified herself against the effect his presence had on her. Now was not the time! The next few minutes were agony for her, being so close to Patrick, but unable to say all the things she _wanted_ to say, conscious every moment of Wilkinson's presence nearby.

It was a relief to her to realize that Patrick and Ben already knew the general area they needed to go. She wouldn't have to lie about that at least! "Yes, islands...islands of stone in sea of grass. That's what the Lakota used to call the Black Hills in South Dakota." Bringing up the Lakota reminded her of the myth of Tanagila that she used to tell Ben. She wasn't sure if Patrick would understand, but she was pretty sure Ben would. She set down the magnifying glass, mentally rehearsing her words before she said them, "Find where the moon touches the earth and release the hummingbird."

Just when she thought Patrick was going to leave to follow up the clue, he turned and asked, "Did it ever occur to you--I can't believe I'm saying this--did it ever occur to you that I did the things I did to impress you?"

She stared at him for a few moments, inwardly delighted that he wanted to resolve their problems as much as she did. Unfortunately, his timing was horrendous, so she had to force herself to refuse the obvious olive branch and send him on his way. What she wouldn't have given for the situation to be just a little different! Then she forced her softer feelings aside so Wilkinson couldn't use them against her again.

***

It was a rather dejected Patrick Gates who left the University of Maryland campus. Even though his main reason for seeing Emily had been to have her translate the clue, he'd also hoped to try to work things out between them. He'd seen hints last time that she'd be receptive to an olive branch from him. He unlocked his car and slid behind the wheel, clearing his throat as he did so. He must have been imagining that he saw those hints, given how completely Emily had rejected his overture. He'd have begged her to give him another chance, but he was too proud to beg, especially after such a flat rejection.

He had to take his glasses off and wipe his eyes before he could drive away from the campus. All the dust in the air made his eyes water. He glanced up at the building one last time before he pulled out of his spot and headed home to tell Ben about the clue. He'd always been better at figuring out riddles and clues than Patrick.

"Did Mom say anything else?" Ben asked this after they'd spent half a day searching fruitlessly for any sign of a hummingbird near Mount Rushmore.

"Well, she did remind me of all the sacrifices she made that I didn't," Patrick hated to admit that, especially in front of Abigail and Riley, but Ben _had_ asked.

Ben turned and looked at his father, the beginning of an epiphany appearing in the blue-gray eyes that had always reminded Patrick of Emily. "Sacrifice?"

"Because she was the one who stayed home with you when you were a child." He couldn't help feeling a little guilty for that. Maybe if _he'd_ stayed home once in awhile and given Emily a chance to go on digs, they wouldn't have gotten divorced and would be looking forward to celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary soon.

Patrick was distracted from his thoughts by an exclamation from Ben, "That's right."

"Son, I can't change the past." He was already beating himself up over the past; he didn't need Ben's help!

"No, that's right," Ben walked over, his face lighting up as he explained what he meant. "That's where the hummingbird comes from! It's a story she would tell me when I was small." They all drew closer together as Ben spoke, listening intently. "A Lakota myth about the hummingbird, Tanigala. The Spirit of Sacrifice."

Patrick frowned, beginning to grow very annoyed with Emily. What was she playing at? "She gave me a false clue to send me on a wild goose chase?"

"No, no, no, she wouldn't do that," Abigail interjected, unintentionally popping Patrick's male pride before it got the better of him. "She _knew_ the information was for Ben, not for you."

Riley asked the next question that came to Patrick's mind. "Why that story?"

"She's trying to tell us something," Ben murmured, staring into the middle distance as he thought. "In the story, the hummingbird sacrifices itself to save the earth and the moon--" tears started in his eyes as he continued "--which it believes is it's family."

A wave of guilt washed over Patrick as he realized what Ben was telling them. "She's the hummingbird. Release the hummingbird." He turned away, unable to listen as Ben tried to call Emily, feeling a little sick to his stomach. He couldn't bear to think that those were the last words he'd said to Emily. He should have just told her he still loved her and to hell with whether or not she still felt the same. At least she would have known.

"Mom didn't answer her phone," Ben told them, frustration, fear, and anger warring with each other in his eyes. "It's possible that she's still alive."

Wiping away the dust in his eyes, Patrick turned to his son. "What do we do now?"

"We find Wilkinson and figure out how to get Mom away from him," Ben answered, determination settling over his features.

Patrick nodded, glad that Ben had been thinking the same thing he had.

***

They decided the best way to find Wilkinson would be to wait for him on the path that led up to the memorial. While they waited, Patrick was too nervous and worried about Emily to stay still. He took to pacing the landing, occasionally pausing to look down at what they could see of the path from where they were standing. During one of his pauses, Abigail stepped up beside him, asking softly, "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Then he sighed, his hands clenching around the wooden railing. "No. I'm worried about Emily. I know she can take care of herself, but we have no idea how far Wilkinson is willing to go on his search for the treasure."

Abigail was quiet for several moments, thinking. "Emily gave you that particular false clue for a reason. She _must_ have realized she was more valuable to Wilkinson alive than dead." She rested her hand over his. "At least long enough to give you and Ben time to figure out the clue and find her."

"Thanks, Abigail." He glanced at her with a faint smile, glad that she'd been able to think of that.

She patted his hand with a small smile of her own. After a few moments, she asked quietly, "You still love her, don't you?"

He sighed deeply, closing his eyes as he remembered how beautiful and vibrant Emily had looked in her office. Slowly, he nodded. "Yes, very much."

"Do you think she might still love you?" Abigail posed the question almost delicately, as if worried that she might offend him.

Patrick rubbed his eyes, wishing he'd gotten more sleep the previous night. "After last night, I didn't think so, but now I'm not sure."

"Last night?" She glanced him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

He glanced down, feeling sheepish. "After Em gave me the 'clue', I extended an 'olive branch' of sorts and she rebuffed it, which was when she started talking about the sacrifices she made." He cleared his throat and drank some water from the bottle he had in his pocket. "After talking with Ben, though, I think she acted that way more because Wilkinson was nearby."

"Maybe, once this is all over, you should try again?" Abigail suggested after a few moments of silence. "She might surprise you."

Patrick nodded, having already decided to do just that. "Thanks for listening."

"Not a problem."

At that moment, they spotted Wilkinson climbing up the path, followed by two other men, one of who was gripping Emily's arm, keeping her nearby. He was relieved to see that she was all right and moved back to take up his place near Ben, standing with him as they waited to confront Wilkinson and free Emily from his clutches.

***

Though Emily remained outwardly calm and composed all through the trip to South Dakota, inwardly she worried and fretted about the clue she'd given Patrick. Would Ben be able to figure it out? Should she have said more? Why did Patrick have to attempt to reconcile with her right then? Why couldn't he have waited until _after_ this whole mess was over? Though it was a small comfort to her that he _wanted_ reconcile with her and possibly renew their relationship. More than once, she'd regretted suggesting that they not see each other all those years ago, but stubborn pride had prevented her from swallowing her pride and going to see Patrick. Now that she knew he wanted to reconcile, however, she was determined to do exactly that. She was tired of being alone and Patrick was the only man who'd ever completed her.

She'd never been so happy to see her son as when he turned and confronted Wilkinson. Though the gun at her hip was something she would have gladly done without, it didn't dim her pride in her son. "I knew you'd figure out the message I gave your father."

After it was settled that Wilkinson be the only one of his group to accompany them, Emily took the chance to ask Patrick if what Ben had said about kidnapping the President was true. He only said, "I thought it best not to tell you."

That only piqued her interest, but they couldn't talk further because Ben and Wilkinson urged them onwards. Emily resigned herself to waiting for the entire story and instead focused on keeping up with the others. She may still work out to stay in shape, but it didn't include any rock climbing. _Though maybe it should..._

***

All things considered, she was glad she'd been forced to come along. She could have done without the risk to Ben and Patrick's lives as well as her own, but it had been a highly productive adventure overall. They found Cíbola and more importantly, Emily and Patrick finally got time to themselves that evening when he walked her to the hotel room the government provided for her, just like he had when they'd first met. Except, this time she was sober and didn't let him leave. She pulled him into the room, hung the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the doorknob, and shut it firmly, making sure it was locked.

Looking up to meet Patrick's eyes, she could see the anticipation and desire in their blue depths and stretched up to kiss him, a proper passionate kiss now that they were alone without the prospect of death hanging over them. Patrick responded to the kiss with just as much passion, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close. His stomach was a bit softer and pudgier than she remembered, but that was only a secondary concern. Her primary one was getting from the door to the bed without ending the kiss at all. She didn't think she could bear to be parted from him even that little bit.

Patrick attempted to solve that problem by bending to pick her up, but he stopped mid-bend with a gasp of pain. "Sweetheart?" She touched his shoulder, concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"My back's a little sore," he admitted with a grimace, carefully straightening up. He offered a rueful smile. "I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Neither am I." She led him over to the bed and coaxed him into sitting down. "Perhaps a back massage would help?"

"Anything would be welcome," Patrick told her, his eyes tight with the pain he was trying to hide from her.

Nodding, she helped him remove his sweater, shirt, and undershirt, removing her own jacket and suit coat while she was at it. While she checked to see if the hotel had provided any oil, Patrick took off his shoes and socks and stretched out on his stomach on the bed, setting his glasses on the bedside table. Deciding baby oil was close enough to massage oil, Emily shed her own shoes and socks and climbed on the bed to begin the massage.

Ignoring a tingle of desire at the sight of Patrick stretched out on the bed, Emily straddled his waist, coated her palms with oil, and slowly drew her hands down his back from his shoulders to his hips. Indulging herself just the one time, she began the massage in earnest, finding each knot in his muscles and carefully, tenderly working it loose. Each time, Patrick groaned or gasped in pain, sighing or moaning with pleasure when it faded.

Though it was gratifying to know that the massage was working so well, Emily almost regretted making the offer. Patrick's moans and sighs were driving her mad with desire and want for him. Part of her worried he would simply fall asleep afterwards, but she was pretty sure he wouldn't. Not if past back massages were any indication of what would happen afterwards. After she finished, she reached to the side for the hand towel and wiped her hands clean. Then she took it wiped away what oil remained on Patrick's back, tossing it on the floor afterwards. "There. All done."

"Thank you, Em." He carefully sat up and shifted to face her, the tightness gone from his eyes, replaced once more by the desire and want that had been there earlier.

"You're welcome, Pat." She smiled and eased into his lap to kiss him, lightly and teasingly.

"Minx," he murmured fondly, cupping her cheek in one large hand so he could give her a proper, deep kiss.

"Teasing minx," she corrected with a moan, melting against him, _very_ pleased to find that she had the same effect on him today as she had thirty-two years ago.

He gently pressed on her lower back with his free hand, increasing the pressure, and they both moaned at the shockwaves of pleasure that shot through them at the contact. "_My_ teasing minx, though."

She nipped playfully at his lips, purring as he helped her out of her silk camisole, his fingers grazing the sides of her breasts. "Yes, yours and only yours."

"Just as I have always and only ever will be yours," he told her, completely serious, all teasing and playfulness forgotten for the moment.

She smiled, and holding his gaze, reached up to remove her bra, leaving herself as naked as him. Clearing his throat, he pulled her to him for a searing kiss, both of them moaning at slide of skin against skin. By the time they pulled apart to catch their breath, they'd managed to push, pull, and kick the last of their clothes off, leaving both of them nude. She sat back to survey him, taking in how age had changed him, yet not. Yes, he wasn't _quite_ as fit as he had been thirty years ago, but she didn't care: he was still _her_ Patrick.

When she lifted her eyes back to his face, she realized he'd been looking her over as well and smiled softly when his blue eyes finally met her gray ones. "I hope the changes aren't _too_ disappointing."

"Oh, Em, you could _never_ disappoint me," he told her, his eyes shining as he combed his fingers through her hair. "You will _always_ be beautiful to me, no matter how old we get."

"I plan to have the chance to grow older with you," she said softly, smoothing back that one lock of his hair that always insisted on falling into his face. "If you'll have me."

He stared at her, his eyes widening as her words sunk in. "Of course! I'd love nothing more than to share the rest of my life--however long it may be--with you."

"I'm glad." She laughed as he pulled her to him in a tight hug, their arms and legs tangling together. "I have no intention of leaving you again."

He pulled back enough so he could meet her eyes, his expression utterly serious. "I wouldn't _let_ you go anyway."

"If I didn't love you so much, I'd belt you for that," she told him warmly, her eyes flashing with annoyance.

Rather than retort, he pulled her into another kiss. She resisted for barely a second before returning it with a sigh. Why was she even arguing with him? They had better things to do! This time, when they pulled back to drag much-needed air into their lungs, Patrick was sitting against the headboard with Emily half-sprawled in his lap, the evidence of his arousal pressing against her stomach. His voice was hoarse as he pleaded with her, "Em, I need you..."

"Yes, Pat," she gasped, shifting to straddle his lap and join with him, his moan of pleasure at being inside her no less heartfelt than her own.

She sat still for several moments, simply savoring the sensation. Then she slowly began to move. Patrick's groan was half torture, half pleasure. "God, Em. You're going to kill me."

"What a way to go," she commented with a breathless laugh, moving quicker now that it was clear nothing had changed _that_ much in thirty-two years.

He grinned, drawing her head down to his for another hungry kiss as she continued to move, their tongues dancing and dueling from one mouth to the other. The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside her until it finally snapped and she literally saw lights dancing before her eyes as she found completion in Patrick's arms. As she gasped raggedly for breath, she vaguely realized he'd found completion, his own breath as ragged as hers. "Ooh, yes, I've been wanting this ever since I first saw you again."

She slowly sat up, staring down at him in surprise. "Really?"

"Mmm-hmm." He leaned up to nuzzle her cheek as he stroked her back soothingly. "If it hadn't been for Ben and Abigail, we might have ended up on the settee."

She tilted her head to the side. "Mmm, or maybe even the rug."

"Perhaps I should have just told them to go ahead without me," he murmured, trailing kisses down along her neck, nibbling at the spot where it joined her shoulder.

Emily half-collapsed against him, shuddering with pleasure. "I almost wish you had."

"Maybe I will next time," he eased her onto her back, blazing a trail of kisses down to her chest.

Half dizzy with pleasure already, she barely retained enough coherent thought to pull the pillows over to prop her head and shoulders up so she could watch Patrick. "I won't object if you--ooh!--do. Ahhhhh."

"I'm glad to hear it." He smirked, moving lower from her navel.

Coherent thought abandoned her completely as Patrick pleasured her to another peak with his lips, tongue, and teeth, though the last were only sparingly used. She was still gasping for breath when he stretched out beside her once more. When he kissed her, she could taste them both on his tongue and moaned with pleasure. Sliding her hand between them, she found that he'd recovered fully. It looked like they wouldn't be getting much sleep, but that's why she'd put the sign on the door!

***

Patrick was jerked from a sound sleep by the sound of pounding the door, followed by his son's voice, almost frantic, "Mom! Wake up!"

"Uh-oh," was all Patrick had the chance to say before the lock on the door disengaged. Why did Ben have a key to _Emily's_ hotel room?

Luckily, Emily was on the side of the bed closest to the door, so Ben only saw her at first. Keeping the covers pulled up over her chest, she demanded testily, "What is so urgent that you _had_ to come wake me up at 8:00 in the morning?"

"We can't find Dad," Ben explained, pacing the room, apparently unaware of the presence of his missing parent, who'd wisely remained lying down for the moment. "Riley said he never came back to the room last night."

Emily glanced over her shoulder at Patrick, who'd remained silent until then. He nodded and pushed himself up onto one elbow so Ben could see him over Emily's shoulder, making no effort to hide the fact that he wore no pajamas. "That's because I came here instead."

At the sound of his father's voice, Ben froze in his tracks. Slowly, he turned and took in the sight of his parents. Together. In bed. Clearly naked. His eyes wide, he backed towards the door. "Oh, uh, right. I'm sorry I woke you. I'll, um, just, uh, go now."

With that, he opened the door, exited, and shut it behind him. Patrick and Emily exchanged looks and burst into laughter. "I almost feel sorry for him."

"That's what he gets for barging in here instead of calling like a civilized human being." Emily rolled over onto her back, smiling lazily up at Patrick.

"I said 'almost'," he reminded her, slipping hand under the covers to stroke her hip.

"Mmm, I know you did." She stretched luxuriously and sighed happily. "What should we do now that we're awake?"

He grinned and leaned down to kiss her lingeringly. She was smiling indulgently when he finally lifted his head. "Do you like my idea?"

"It's a good idea." She reached up to pull his head down for another kiss.

He responded eagerly to her kiss, pushing the covers out of his way. This was much better than waking up alone, regardless of the fact that Ben had been disabused of the notion that he'd been immaculately conceived.

**End**

**A/N:** There is a more explicit version available, but you'll need to contact me if you wish to read it.


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